


"If You Were A Tree..."

by asdf123150 (jadeopal)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Cell Phones, Fluff, Human Bill Cipher, Lots of that too, M/M, Pick-Up Lines, Swearing, Texting, Writer Dipper Pines, hermit!Dipper, i think, jeebuz tags are annoying, lots of them - Freeform, shitty everything, shitty pacing, try to enjoy?, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeopal/pseuds/asdf123150
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper Pines is a hermit with no romantic experience. Mabel, his sister, has been through more boyfriends than either of them can count. Bill Cipher is Mabel's eccentric coworker, and no, they're not going out, thank you very much, because Bill is gay. He's also very fond of cheesy pick-up lines, not that any of them find out until he anonymously sends a bunch of them to Dipper in an attempt to win over the antisocial brunet's heart.</p><p>Or: Dipper receives a lot of cheesy pick-up line texts from a number he doesn't recognize, and worries that the sender is a possible stalker/axe murderer/serial killer/psychopath. It's not; it's just Bill. Not that Dipper knows that, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"If You Were A Tree..."

**Author's Note:**

> When reading the texts, you'll have to identify the text sender by the stuff in square brackets after the time. I think it'll be pretty easy to recognize who's who, as long as you're paying attention, but if it turns out to be confusing, just tell me in a comment and I'll try to fix it.  
> Now, please, proceed, and enjoy (or try to enjoy) the meaningless BillDip fluff.

Dipper had always been the quiet one in the family, the introvert, the one who loathed showing up at family gatherings and could go weeks on end without any contact with the outside world. Mabel, on the other hand, was a social butterfly on steroids. She had thousands upon thousands of friends and followers on every single one of her social media accounts, regularly held parties for her friends, family, and colleagues, etc., etc., etc. Dipper had lost count of how many boyfriends and girlfriends she’d had over the course of her twenty-four year lifespan; she, on the other hand, never let him forget the one and only date he’d ever been on in his life, which had ended in him discovering his bisexuality. (Long story. Really, really long story.)

It was precisely because of her history with boys, and just people in general, that he only almost had a heart attack when he walked into their kitchen one morning and saw a strange man standing at the stove.

He made a sound that was a cross between a screech and a gasp. It came out sounding like an elephant was being strangled in the kitchen.

“Hmm?” The man turned around, and for a heartstopping moment, Dipper thought - quite irrationally - that he’d see the man holding Mabel’s head on a skewer, roasting it over one of the gas stoves. Instead he saw him holding a spatula in one hand and a frying pan in the other. Apparently he was cooking pancakes. The glittery kind, the only kind that Mabel would ever eat.

“W-W-Who,” Dipper stammered, unable to force out anything other than that one barely comprehensible word.

_Who was this guy?_

Okay. Okay. Assess the situation. He was in his kitchen on Saturday morning. It was, what, ten in the morning? Okay. That was usual. Mabel was still asleep, if the snoring he could hear coming down the hall was any indication. That was also usual. He’d heard her coming back home at three in the morning; that was also usual, for a Friday night. Okay.

Where did this guy fit into the equation?”

“Hey, you’re the brother!” the guy exclaimed with an earsplitting grin.

Ooookay. So obviously this guy was with Mabel. Or, well, he probably was. Dipper wasn’t sure. There was always the chance that he was an axe murderer who had broken into their apartment and was planning -

 _Dipper, you’re being paranoid again_ . _Be rational. Look at the facts._

Fact 1: There was a strange man in his kitchen. Fact 2: The man had said, “You’re the brother!” So he probably, maybe, knew Mabel. Fact 3: This man was pretty hot - blond hair, eyepatch, blue eye, tan skin - even if he was a little short. Dipper knew for a fact that Mabel’s type was blond, blue-eyed mischief-makers. So, this guy was Mabel’s type. Conclusion: This guy was probably Mabel’s latest hookup. That didn’t completely eliminate the possibility of him being a serial killer, but Dipper trusted his sister’s taste in hookups well enough to trust that this was probably _not_ a murderer of any sort. Therefore: Dipper was safe.

“Um.” He scratched his collarbone, certain that his face was red as raspberry jam. Oh, shit, they’d run out of raspberry jam, hadn’t they? “Yeah. I’m Mabel’s brother. Uh, I guess you, uh, know Mabel?”

_Smooth, Dipper. Real smooth._

His blush deepened as the blond man began laughing, and laughing, and laughing, and just kept right on laughing. It wasn’t polite laughter either - the man was full-out, manically cackling, shoulders convulsing with the force of it all.

Oh, god, this wasn’t another creep, was it? Seriously, what was with Mabel and creeps?

“Uh.” The man kept laughing. “Okay. I guess. I guess you do know Mabel, then. Obviously,” he muttered to himself under his breath. “Can you tell me, ah, how you know her?”

 _Finally_ the man stopped cackling, and in the sudden silence of the apartment, Dipper could hear that Mabel’s snoring had stopped. Great. Mr. Probably-not-a-serial-killer had woken her with his laughter at Dipper. Just great.

“Oh, Pine Tree, Pine Tree,” the man gasped, banging his frying pan against the stove as he swallowed down another wave of laughter. Dipper frowned - Pine Tree? Also, that frying pan had been expensive. He didn’t care what this creep’s relationship with Mabel was. If he broke that frying pan, he was buying them a replacement. “You’re even more of a riot than she says you are! ‘I, uh, I guess you, uh, know Mabel?’” He broke off into another fit of laughter.

Dipper was 99.9% sure that the glittery pancake was burning in its pan right then, all because its cook didn’t possess the slightest shred of self-restraint or manners.

“Your pancake’s burning,” he pointed out, a little grouchily - could you blame him? - and bristled when it only made the man laugh yet harder.

“ _‘Your pancake’s burning!_ ’”

Dipper’s nervosity and paranoia was now beginning to fade, replaced instead by irritation bordering on rage. Now that he was (mostly) sure this stranger wasn’t a threat to his or Mabel’s safety, the feelings of caffeine deprivation were beginning to set in. Except he couldn’t go make himself a pot of that dark, bitter nectar of life because there was a stranger with a miniscule chance of being a serial killer standing next to the coffee maker.

“Seriously,” he said, and this time there was an edge to his voice that made the stranger’s laughter break off even more suddenly than it had begun. “Who are you, and what’re you doing in my kitchen?”

The man grinned and pointed behind Dipper. “Ask her.”

And Mabel threw herself at Dipper’s back.

“ _Dippeeeeeer_ ,” she growled as he yelped and floundered for balance. “What is rule number seven hundred and sixty-three of living with the alpha twin.”

“ _He’s_ the one who woke you up!” he yelled, gesticulating wildly in the stranger’s general direction. The blond’s grin had widened, and he stood with one hand on the frying pan handle, the other on his hip, as he watched the two siblings squabble. Yes, that was definitely smoke Dipper saw coming from the glittery pancake. _Goddammit._ “Go pounce on him!”

She giggled and let go of him. “I know it was him, Dipdop, I’m just pulling your leg.”

As he stared at her incredulously - had it really been necessary for her to practically _bowl him over_ just as a joke? - she skipped over to their kitchen island and plonked herself down in a chair.

“So, how’re you two going? Best buds already, or what?”

The blond stranger snickered - _how was he not seeing the smoke rising from his frying pan?_ \- and pointed at Dipper with his spatula. “Shooting Star, you severely underrated this guy’s awkwardness. In fact, I’m inclined to think you lied to me about what he’s like, because he is a _billion_ times worse than you ever told me!”

Dipper glared at the man, who glowed with irrepressible joy, and then looked back to his sister. He desperately wanted to take a seat with her, but he refused to do that as long as his kitchen remained occupied by a foreign, unidentified, possibly dangerous man. “Mabel, who is this guy?”

She whistled. “You didn’t even ask him what his name is? Geez, Bill’s right, you’re _way_ more socially awkward than I gave you credit for.”

“ _Mabel._ ”

“ _Shooting Star_ ,” the blond mocked in a high-pitched voice that was even more nasal than before. Dipper scowled at him again, and the blond smirked back.

“Dipper, stop bullying Bill,” Mabel said with an absolutely straight face. Her mask cracked as soon as he aimed his scowl her way. “Okay, okay, I guess you want some explanation, right? Well, first of all, Bill’s not a serial killer, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“I didn’t think he was-”

“You thought I was a serial killer?” The blond - Bill - put a hand to his chest as his smile widened. “Why, Pine Tree, I’m touched.”

“The Pine Tree,” Mabel continued without missing a beat, “is his nickname for you. I told him about that stupid hat you wear everywhere-”

“It is not _stupid!_ ”

“-and he came up with Pine Tree. He calls me Shooting Star because of the sweater I was wearing when we met. Which, by the way, was at work. He’s my colleague. Not my hookup. Heavens know I want a taste of his manly man-flesh, but he’s gay, so get your mind out of the gutter, Dipper, we’re not like that.”

Bill cackled as Dipper’s blush deepened again.

“As for why he’s here, we had a party at another colleague’s house yesterday and he was DD, so he drove me home in return for crashing on our couch overnight and eating our breakfast in the morning. That includes your coffee, Dipper, so grow up and learn to share for once. Oh, right. Bill, meet Dipper, my socially-inept brother. Dipper, meet Bill, my... something colleague. Whoooooo apparently doesn’t know how to cook fucking pancakes, Bill, it’s _burning!_ Turn the stove off before the fire alarm goes off! Dipper, why didn’t you _say_ something!”

She jumped over the table in a single impressive bound and snatched the frying pan from Bill’s hand. He stepped back and stared, impassive, as she shoved the pan into the sink and turned the faucet on full-blast. The pan sizzled under the torrent of water; the charred black lump in its center remained stubbornly stone-like and fastened onto the pan.

Mabel glared at Bill. “If you ruined our pan, you’re buying us a replacement.”

He shrugged, indifferent, and sauntered over to the island to take a seat. On his way, he passed by Dipper and gave the taller brunet a wink. Dipper stared back.

...He needed some coffee.

So he went and made himself a potful of it, ignoring Mabel’s and Bill’s chatter in the background. A few times he swore he heard his name being mentioned but he firmly told himself to _ignore it, ignore it; get your coffee, get your toast, and then you can go back to your room, your nice, dark, comfortable room, to be a hermit like you always are._

Bill winked at him again later, while the three of them wolfed down glittery pancakes together. (Mabel had forced Dipper to sit down and eat with them. He’d obeyed, only to ignore the other two’s existence.) Dipper had ignored him then, too. All things considered, Mabel had brought weirder people home before, both hookups and non. After spending mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights with ferrets clambering all over their furniture, child opera blasting through their apartment, hairy naked men playing Wax Museum in the living room, and countless other unspeakable, unrememberable horrors, very little fazed Dipper anymore. On the one hand, it was a useful skill; on the other, acquiring it had been far too painful for his liking.

In any case, it allowed him to ignore Mabel’s and Bill’s presences - and friendly, boisterous conversation - the entire time he was eating his breakfast. When he was done, he put his plate in the dishwasher and went back to his room, not hearing Mabel’s “See you later, Dipper!” or Bill’s “We’ll be having live infants for lunch, Pine Tree!” as he left.

When he was gone, Mabel turned to Bill with a grin. “So? Is he cute or is he cute?”

“He’s cute,” Bill agreed with a grin, chomping down on a pancake. “I never doubted you, Shooting Star.”

“Sure, sure. Sooooo, you still want it?”

He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and slammed it down on the counter between them. “Input away.”

Back in his room, humming under his breath as he powered up his computer, Dipper didn’t have the slightest clue as to the storm that would soon be heading his way.

xoxoxox

 _1:11 PM [6476663133]_ _  
_ _If you were a tree, and I were a squirrel, I’d put my nuts in your hole. ;)_

xoxoxox

Dipper barged into Mabel’s room, eliciting a squeal of surprise from the girl as she stabbed herself with a knitting needle. He ignored it and shoved his phone in her face.

“Mabel! What is this?”

She stuck her bleeding palm in her mouth and glared at him. “Geez, my day’s been fine, thanks. How’s yours been, Dipdop?”

He scowled and waved his phone insistently. “Mabel, help me out here. Some number I don’t recognize just sent me a text and I don’t know what to do.”

“A number you don’t...?” Eyebrows raised, she took the phone from him and stared at its screen. As she read the number, then the message itself, her eyebrows crept steadily higher, until they were almost hidden by her bangs.

Beside her, Dipper was practically hyperventilating. “Oh, god, what if that was from a hacker and now they’ve downloaded viruses onto all our computers and are monitoring all our keyboard and mouse movements? What if they steal our bank information? Mabel! What if they’ve _already_ stolen our information! Oh, god, oh, god, I shouldn’t have opened the stupid text. Do you think they’ve developed brainwashing technology yet? Because I know that the radio waves from phones can influence-”

“You’re being paranoid again, brobro.” She still hadn’t stopped staring at the message. “It’s not a hacker or anything like that. Probably just a wrong number.”

“What kind of person sends meaningless nonsense to wrong numbers?”

She glanced up at her brother. “‘Meaningless nonsense’? Brobro, you do know what this message means, right?”

He stared back at her, less panicked now, still confused. “It means something?”

She groaned and slapped the phone against her forehead. “You’re hopeless. Okay. Think of it this way.” She set the phone down beside her and held up her hands. “If you were a tree...” She formed a ring with the thumb and index finger of one hand. “And I were a squirrel...” She extended her index finger. Then, after some consideration, switched it to her middle finger. “I’d put my nuts-” She lifted her middle finger. “-into-” Stuck it through the fingers of her other hand. “-your hole.”

The confusion cleared off Dipper’s face in a flash, replaced by utter mortification. Mabel nodded in satisfaction. “You got it.”

“That’s - that’s -” He gagged. “That’s revolting. What the hell. Who sends that to... Who says that, ever? That’s just - That’s -”

“They’re called pickup lines, brobro. They’re usually pretty bad, although-” She gave the phone a disbelieving look. “-I have to say, this one takes the cake. Anyway. Just, just text the person back and tell them they’ve got the wrong number. And that the pickup line they sent you sucks. As in, really, _really_ sucks. As in, sucks balls, sucks.”

He still hadn’t completely recovered from the realization of what the message meant. “Why would someone say something like...? Okay. Okay, text them back and tell them it’s the wrong number. Why can’t I just ignore them?”

Mabel gave him back his phone and picked up her knitting needles again. “That works, too. Do whatever you want, brobro, it’s your phone and your wrong number.”

“But-”

“No!” She jabbed her knitting needles at him. “Go! Shoo! Develop social skills! Out, out, out! I mean it, Dipper, you can’t just be a hermit all the time, life doesn’t work like that!”

He wrinkled his nose at her. She wrinkled hers back, and with a disgruntled sigh, he left.

xoxoxox

 _1:53 PM [6478892323]_ _  
_ _Wrong number, sorry._

xoxoxox

 _1:40 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _that was disgusting_

 _1:42 PM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _Awww, Pine Tree saw it? :) What’d he say?_

 _1:46 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _he didnt know what it meant. u ruined his innocence._

 _1:47 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _srsly tho when i gave u his number i didnt mean for u to text him creepy pickup lines_

 _1:47 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _i thought you had style_

 _1:48 PM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _I so have style! :( Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not there_

 _1:49 PM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _Thanks for telling me he doesn’t like the pickup lines, though. I was worried about that. Now I’ll make sure to send him the creepiest ones I can find. <3 _

_1:51 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _wat bill no_

 _1:51 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _no bill if u want dipper pls dont actually send him pickup lines_

 _1:51 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _hes gonna hate u forever and ever_

 _1:54 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _for the love of god please DON’T_

xoxoxox

 _2:06 PM [6476663133]_ _  
_ _Wrong number? It can’t be, I sent that message to my soulmate._

xoxoxox

 _2:07 PM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _Too late._

xoxoxox

“Mabel, the person responded.”

She groaned and stuck her hand up into the air. “Gimme.”

He obliged and watched, chewing on a thumbnail, as she rolled onto her stomach and stared at the new message. After a pause, she retched and shoved the phone back at Dipper.

“Don’t. I can’t. I can’t deal with this.”

“Wha- Mabel! You can’t just leave me on my own with this, I don’t know-”

She waved the phone at him insistently, face still buried in her pillow. “You’re on. Your. Own.”

He didn’t really have much of a choice. Reluctantly, he took back his phone, and on his way out of her bedroom he grumbled, “What do you expect me to do about this, huh?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, just leave me out of it.”

xoxoxox

_Are you sure you want to block: [6476663133] from your phone?_

**_[Yes]_ ** _[No]_

xoxoxox

The rest of Saturday, and Sunday as well, were very peaceful for Dipper. For the rest of the weekend he stayed locked up in his bedroom just the same as always, typing away at his computer. He had a newspaper article to write that was due Monday morning, and he hadn’t even begun his research for it yet.

Bill didn’t come over again, thank god for that. Usually Mabel dragged her friends - any sort of friend - over to their apartment in multiple-day chunks. It was definitely odd that he’d only come over that one night and hadn’t returned yet, but it was all the same by Dipper. Honestly, it was nice that the blond man hadn’t returned. Dipper didn’t like the vibe he got from him. Too creepy. Too... smiley.

Yes, it was really for the best that Bill had stayed away, allowing Dipper to continue his work in peace.

xoxoxox

 _3:02 AM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _He blocked me!_

 _3:04 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _not surprised, dork. what did u think would happen when u texted him that u thought he was ur soulmate_

 _3:05 AM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _It was a JOKE._

 _3:05 AM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _Is he up right now?_

 _3:06 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _hes not crazy enuf to b up at 3 in the f-ing morning_

 _3:06 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _night_

 _3:07 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _u know what i mean_

 _3:09 AM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _Go into his room, get his phone, and unblock me._

 _3:12 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _nooooooooope!!! u chose to do this now FACE THE CONSEQUENCES_

 _3:17 AM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _Damn you, Mabel._

 _3:20 AM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _I thought you WANTED me to hook up with your brother_

 _3:47 AM [Stupidest stupid in the history of stupids]_ _  
_ _Fuck you._

 _3:48 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _good luck ~ <3 _

xoxoxox

 _12:43 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _I’m sorry, that was clearly a bad way to start things off. Could we start over again? With a coffee, maybe?_

xoxoxox

In the middle of researching the psychological harm caused by child beauty pageants, Dipper found himself in the middle of a serious moral quandary.

On the one hand, this wrong number was clearly a total creep. Even after Dipper had blocked him, the guy - he was just going to go ahead and assume it was a guy, especially after the whole squirrel and nuts thing - had been persistent enough as to get himself a new phone number for the sole purpose of texting Dipper again.

There was still the question of how this guy knew his number, of course. Although Dipper had, so far, assumed that it was a wrong number, there was always the chance that it wasn’t, and that this guy had texted him with the sole intention of - of picking him up? Was that what it was called nowadays? Sure. Of picking him up. Which meant that he was probably a creep, and a stalker, and definitely _not_ someone that Dipper would want to go out for coffee with. No matter how many people there were at the place they went to.

On the other hand, though, free coffee.

But on the other hand, this guy’s creep, stalker, and serial killer-o-meter was sky-high.

But free coffee.

But there was the strong chance-

But _free coffee_.

His quandary lasted about three minutes. He never even had the chance to ask Mabel for advice.

xoxoxox

 _12:49 PM [6478892323]_ _  
_ _where and when?_

xoxoxox

When Bill’s phone chirped and he read his new message, he squealed like the winner of a child beauty pageant.

“Shooting Star, Shooting Star!” He thrust his throwaway phone - purchased from a local 7-11 mere minutes earlier - into her face, ignoring her indignant cry and the ketchup that smeared onto its screen. “Look at that! He replied!”

“Good for you,” she grunted back, shoving his hand away and shoving her crumpled French fry into her mouth. “I hope you have fifty dollars or so to spare if you actually plan on treating my brother to coffee.”

He grinned at her without looking up. Already his fingers were flying across his phone’s keypad. “Don’t you worry, Shooting Star. I’ve got it _allll_ covered.”

“What’re you going to do when he figures out you’re, you know, you?”

With a triumphant grin, he hit _Send_. “I said, I’ve got it all covered.”

xoxoxox

 _12:51 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Mystery Brew on Main & Bingley. Come any time and just tell the barista your name. _

xoxoxox

To say that Dipper was feeling skeptical when he walked into Mystery Brew the next morning would be a severe understatement. To say he was feeling nervous when he lined up in the massive queue of the small, gold-painted store would still be wrong. Paranoid, anxious, gut twisting into a billion tiny knots - now, _those_ would be better descriptors.

When he finally reached the front of the line ten infinite minutes later (this coffee had best be damn good, or damn expensive), the blond barista at the cash register gave him a wide, friendly smile. One eye, blue and clear, twinkled merrily in the sunlight; the other was hidden by an eyepatch. “Hello there! What can I get you?”

This man looked eerily familiar, but Dipper couldn’t tell why. He scrunched his hands into fists in his pockets - if Mr. Wrong Number had lied about treating him to free coffee, he was about to receive the public humiliation of his life - and stammered, “Two - Two large coffees with two shots of espresso each. Black. And, um, my name is Dipper.”

The blond man - _Will_ , his nameplate cheerfully announced - stared at him blankly for a moment. Dipper fidgeted. He’d known it, he’d known this had all just been an elaborate ruse to humiliate him in public, now Will would say that he didn’t know what he was talking about and Dipper would-

Will laughed, loose and carefree, more like two hiccups than an actual laugh, and Dipper snapped back to reality.

“Oh, so _you’re_ Dipper! I see. I see.” The blond man grinned, wide and just a tad bit wolfish, and again that odd sense of familiarity bubbled up in Dipper. He’d seen this man before, hadn’t he? He was sure he had. “All right. Two large black coffees with two espresso shots, coming right up!”

He punched in a few buttons on his computer, smiled at Dipper, and then gestured to the side. “You can pick up your drinks in a few minutes over there. Hey, Pyronica! Those are for Dipper. Got it?”

The fiery-haired woman he spoke to blinked, first at him, then at Dipper, slow and astonished and just a tiny bit disbelieving.

“Ooookay then,” she mumbled, grabbing two cups and scrawling something on one of their sides. Dipper fidgeted a bit longer as she bustled around behind the counter. A few minutes later she slid the drinks across to him with a wrinkling of her nose. “Enjoy your drinks, _Dipper_.”

“Th... Thanks?” he said weakly, accepting the cardboard cupholder from her. She huffed and turned away, going back to her work.

It was only later, back in the security of his apartment, that Dipper had the courage to stop and actually drink the coffee. It was pretty good coffee - hot, strong, extra-caffeinated, the way that he liked all his coffee to be.

Before he could think too much about it - before he could think about the consequences of his action and how completely, totally, actually _dumb_ it was for him to do something like this - he pulled out his phone and gave the wrong number person a text.

 _9:23 AM [6478892323]_ _  
_ _Good coffee._

A few minutes later, he almost spilled his still scalding-hot coffee on himself when his phone _pinged_ the reply.

 _9:29 AM [6473333033]_ _  
_ _Nice and hot, just like you. ;)_

Oh god. That had been a really bad idea, hadn’t it.

He turned his phone off and shoved it under his pillow. Right then and there, he resolved to not text that person again. Never. Never ever. No matter how much free coffee that person tried to bribe him with. Dipper was _not_ going to be bought with cheesy pick-up lines (could these even be called pick-up lines, he wondered?) and free coffee. He had some dignity, damn it, and he wasn’t going to let some creepy psychopath with connections to a really good coffee shop ruin it for him.

xoxoxox

“Oh my god.” Mabel squinted her eyes at the phone screen and leaned in closer, as if unable to believe what she was seeing. “Oh my god. He actually replied.”

Bill grinned at her. “What did I tell you? I’m irresistible.”

“I can’t believe he actually, one hundred percent, non-courtesy replied,” she repeated to herself, and Bill burst out into laughter.

“He’s going to be doing a lot more than just replying to my text messages by the time this is over, if you catch my drift.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she fake-retched, turning back to her computer monitor.

Still smiling to himself, Bill started typing away at his phone screen. Operation Capture Pine Tree’s Heart (And Virginity (because Bill knew, courtesy of Shooting Star, that Pine Tree was still a virgin (honestly, who was still a virgin at the age of _twenty-four?_ ))) was a go, which meant from now on, there would be no more fooling around. Bill had a stockpile of pick-up lines that he’d stored up just for an occasion like this. Those pick-up lines would be seeing some good use now.

xoxoxox

The next time Dipper turned on his phone was that Saturday, and it was only because Mabel was begging him to.

“I don’t even know why you care so much,” he argued with her as he waited for the logo on its screen to fade away. “It’s not your phone. We never text each other. Why does it matter?”

“Don’t question, brobro,” she replied, staring with great anticipation at his cell phone. “You haven’t told me what’s happened with wrong number guy, by the way. I expect all the deets after-”

She broke off, midsentence, gaping at his phone. He looked down at it too, and felt his jaw drop as well.

Twenty-two new messages.

With shaky fingers, he opened his conversation with wrong number guy. _Twenty-two new messages over five days. What the fuck. What the actual bleeding fuck._

 _12:00 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _I’m a little lost right now. Could you give me some directions to your heart?_

 _6:00 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _You know, I’m no photographer, but I could totally picture us together._

 _12:00 AM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Why the cold shoulder? Come here and let me warm it up for you._

 _9:00 AM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Sorry I’m late, I just got lost in your beautiful eyes._

 _12:00 AM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Feeling down? I’m not surprised, it’s a long way from here to heaven._

 _3:00 AM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Baby, you’re killing me here. I’m not usually an attention whore but I’m definitely a whore for you._

Dipper stopped reading them after that.

“Jesus,” Mabel whispered, scrolling down the long list of texts. “This guy is either a mega creepazoid or just really dedicated. Dipper, I think you have a secret - well, not so secret - admirer.”

“Mega creepazoid sounds more like it,” he muttered, staring and staring at chessy line after cheesy line. “Should I block him again?”

She shook her head. “Nuh-uh, this is _way_ too fun! What’s the harm in flirting with him a little? Just-”

Dipper’s eyes widened, and he almost threw his phone across the room in his scramble to get it away from him. “Mabel, I’m not flirting with anyone!”

She pointed a finger at him and jabbed him in the chest. “See, this is why I always call you a hermit. Flirt a little, for the love of god! What’s the harm in a little flirting?”

“Everything!”

“Nothing,” she countered. “There’s no harm in flirting a little with a guy who is clearly into you-”

“I don’t know who he is, and _he_ doesn’t even know what I look like.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact he’s into you. Just do it, Dipper! Live a little! Here, I’ll do it for you.”

She stormed across the room, and before Dipper could realize what she was doing, snatched his phone up from the ground and began typing. He let out a strangled cry.

“ _Mabel!_ ”

“Hush, I’m thinking.” She hummed, frowned down at the phone, then hit a few more buttons. “Okay, all good. Now we just wait for his response.”

He grabbed the phone from her, and she let him take it, grinning as he stared at the message she’d just send out.

 _11:47 AM [6478892323]_ _  
_ _if I saw a shooting star right now, I’d wish for you and me to be together_

Dipper groaned and pressed his phone against his forehead in utter despair. “Mabel....”

She blew him a kiss. “You’ll thank me at the wedding.”

xoxoxox

Bill quirked an eyebrow as he read his new text.

_11:47 AM [Pine Tree]_

_if I saw a shooting star right now, I’d wish for you and me to be together_

Hmm. Shooting star, plus uncapitalized “if”, plus rather convenient timing, all pointed to this message being sent from Shooting Star rather than Pine Tree himself. Still, Bill would bite. He’d play along for a while. After all, this was the most response he’d received in the past five days.

 _11:49 AM [6473333033]_ _  
_ _If I found a genie in a lamp, I’d only need to use one of my three wishes, because the only thing I want is your heart._

xoxoxox

Mabel grinned at Dipper as he read his new message. “This, Dippin’ Dot, is what flirting is like. Quick, fast, fun, easy. You’ll love it once you try it, I swear!”

Dipper opened his mouth to give her a piece of his mind, but was interrupted by another _beep_ from his phone.

 _11:50 AM [6473330333]_ _  
__And, baby, if I died right now, the last thing I’d want to see would be your face._

He stared down at his phone incredulously as Mabel leaned over and read the message herself.

“That’s...” He dragged a hand down his face. “That’s so stupid. He doesn’t even know what I look like. Why would he-?”

“Flirting, Dipper! It’s all about the flirting! Now hurry up and reply!”

He did. Only to get her off his back.

xoxoxox

 _11:50 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _That’s a stupid thing to say when you don’t even know what I look like._

Ahhh, _there_ he was! Pine Tree had finally bitten!

Bill cackled as he typed out another reply.

This would be easy-peasy. Give him a few months - no, _weeks_ \- and cute, adorable, awkward Pine Tree would be his for the taking.

xoxoxox

 _11:51 AM [6473333033]_ _  
_ _You know how people say true love is blind? Well, they’re not wrong. Attraction doesn’t run skin-deep - not when it comes to me and you, anyway._

xoxoxox

Dipper frowned. “There are so many things wrong with that, I can’t even...”

Mabel grinned as he bent over his phone and furiously typed out another reply.

xoxoxox

 _11:53 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _We’ve never spoken to each other other than your cheesy pickup lines, how can you be attracted to me?_

 _11:54 AM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _The heart works in mysterious ways._

 _11:56 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _That doesn’t answer my question._

 _11:57 AM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _You can’t always get everything you want in life. But, baby, I won’t stop at anything until I get you._

 _11:58 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _That’s just creepy._

 _12:03 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Unfortunately creepy isn’t my middle name, although sometimes I wish it was. Sometimes I also wish my last name was Pines, but I digress._

 _12:12 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _How the fuck do you know my name?_

 _12:14 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Nothing can get in the way of true love._

 _12:14 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Sorry, sorry, that was too creepy again, wasn’t it?_

 _12:15 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _How about this: I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you, and I don’t think I could bear a life without you in it._

 _12:16 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Seriously though, please don’t stop talking to me because of that._

 _12:16 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _I swear I’m not a stalker._

 _12:16 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _We have a mutual contact but if I told you who it was, they’d kill me._

 _12:22 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _You’re not being very convincing. How do I know you’re not lying and secretly plotting to kill me instead?_

 _12:24 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _I’d rather kill myself than kill someone as beautiful and precious as you ;)_

 _12:25 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _That’s still really fucking creepy._

 _12:27 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _This whole “creepy” spiel is getting a little old, how about we move on to something else? Like, say, whether or not you’re free next Friday evening?_

 _12:29 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _I’m not, and as long as it’s you asking, I don’t think I’ll ever be._

 _12:42 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _You’re breaking my heart into shreds, but since you’ve already stolen it away from me, I guess that doesn’t really matter._

xoxoxox

“This guy will not lay off with the cheesy lines,” Dipper groaned to his sister as they sat together at their kitchen island.

She frowned and swatted his hand. “No phones at the dinner table, Dipper. Away! Away! You can go back to flirting after lunch.”

“I’m not _flirting_ ,” he groused, but tucked it away nonetheless.

xoxoxox

 _12:44 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _lay off w the cheesiness, dippers getting sick of it_

 _12:47 PM [Less stupid now but still pretty stupid]_ _  
_ _I don’t know what you mean, he loves it._

 _12:48 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _no he dosnt_

 _12:48 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _hes not gonna flirt back unless u lay off_

 _12:49 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _ask him ab his job n when he says hes a writer ask him ab writers block or smthn, then hell talk to u_

 _12:49 PM [Less stupid now but still pretty stupid]_ _  
_ _Do you swear?_

 _12:59 PM [Less stupid now but still pretty stupid]_ _  
_ _Shooting Star?_

xoxoxox

“No phones at the table, Mabel,” Dipper mimicked in a falsetto voice, and she scowled at him as she tucked her phone away.

“Fine, fine, be like that. Nobody likes a whiner, you know.”

“Nobody likes hypocrites either.”

xoxoxox

 _1:14 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _No reply? All right, I’ll lay off the cheesiness this time._

 _1:15 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _So, stranger, tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?_

 _1:48 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _I’m sure our mutual contact’s already told you that I’m a freelance writer._

 _1:54 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Writer? Really? (Struggling not to make a writers and coffee joke here.) What happens when you get writer’s block?_

 _1:59 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Oh, god, it sucks like you wouldn’t believe._

 _2:00 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _I’ve been trying to write a mystery novel for publication but I can’t decide the antagonist’s motivation right now and it’s really killing me._

 _2:03 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Tell me about it, maybe I can help._

 _2:04 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _I’m pretty sure telling a stranger about your writing project is a poor life choice._

 _2:08 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Fuck it, I’m doing it._

 _2:08 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _It’s supernatural horror._

 _2:09 PM [6473330333]_ _  
_ _Never pegged you as the supernatural type._

 _2:09 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _You don’t know me well enough to peg me as any type._

xoxoxox

“Bill, you’re actually doing it.”

He smirked and took a sip of his tea. Plain green - he didn’t like any of those fancy fruit and flower flavours, they over-complicated things too much. Simpler was always better. “Doing what, Shooting Star?”

She jabbed him in the shoulder with a knitting needle. To be honest, he still didn’t understand why she knitted during their lunch breaks, but if it made her happy, then so be it. “You know what. Dipper’s talking to you. Actually talking! Do you know how rarely he talks to people he doesn’t know? Never. Do you know rarely he talks to people he doesn’t know and has never even seen in person before? _Never_. You, sir, are working a miracle here.”

His phone beeped, and he glanced down quickly at it. When he saw whom he’d just gotten a message from, his grin widened. “I told you I’d do it, didn’t I?”

Mabel hummed as he typed out a quick reply. “I still don’t know why you wanted to go out with Dipper in the first place. I mean, he’s such a dork.”

 _Send_ . “He’s a _cute_ dork,” Bill offered, and took another sip of tea.

“Still a dork nonetheless.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I’m into dorks. Ever think of that?”

She snorted at him and pointed her needles at him. “You, Bill Cipher, the most dapper guy-”

“Gay guy.”

“-the most dapper gay guy in this entire building? Attracted to dorks? Nuh-uh, not buying it. Tell me why you _really_ wanted to meet Dipper.”

“He’s cute. And dorky.”

 _Ping._ He glanced down at his phone again. Another message from Pine Tree.

Mabel stared at him as he set his tea aside and picked up his phone again, typing out yet another message to a certain awkward brunet. He didn’t notice what she was doing until a bright light flashed in his eyes, and he glanced upward to see that she’d taken a photo of him.

“Look.” She grinned at him and showed him the picture. There, on the screen, was him, staring down at his phone with the goofiest grin he’d ever seen on his own face. It disturbed him a little, how utterly besotten he appeared. “Bill, you _like_ him. You actually _like_ my brother! Oh my god, this is like a romcom! K-drama! Is this for real? This can’t be for real. You actually _like_ my _brother?_ ”

He shoved her phone away from him and forced a smile. “What did I tell you? I like my cute dorks.”

Before he could tell what was happening, she jumped on him and engulfed him in a giant, woolly hug.

“I’d better be the best woman at your wedding,” she mumbled into his neck, and he laughed, a giddy bubbly feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself there, Shooting Star, don’t you think?” he teased. The bubbly feeling intensified when she giggled into his shoulder.

“Nuh-uh, Bill. I don’t think I am.”

xoxoxox

 _4:57 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _cuase its a beatiful niiiiiiiiiiight_

 _4:57 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _an i’m lookn for soemthin somethhing to ddoooo_

 _4:57 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _heyy bbyy_

 _4:58 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _I THINK i wanna marry uuuuuuu_

 _5:00 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Jesus Christ, it’s five in the morning._

 _5:00 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Why do clubs always pkay the trashiesst music_

 _5:02 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Why are you texting me if you’re drunk?_

 _5:03 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Caus BABY_

 _5:03 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _I THINK I WANNAA MARRY YIUUUU_

 _5:05 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Go home you moron_

 _5:05 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _your so cute I wanna smoosh your cheeks tigether and bite your nose_

 _5:06 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _You’re so fucking creepy_

 _5:09 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Why do you alwyas wear that stoopid hattt_

 _5:10 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _oh hahahahhaaha i almost typd your name_

 _5:11 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Your other name_

 _5:11 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Not yuor actual name_

 _5:12 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Not DIPPER, I ALready know that name_

 _5:12 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _woops almost did it aggain_

 _5:13 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _wanna go on a date with me?_

 _5:22 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Ask me again when you’re not drunk_

 _5:23 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Noooooo_

 _5:24 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _I’m never gonna ask u unless Im drunk_

 _5:24 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Ive got evrything planned iut and everythng_

 _5:24 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Wanna go on a daet with me/_

 _5:31 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _I’m not answering unless you ask while you’re sober_

 _5:32 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Party poooper_

 _5:32 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Spoilport_

 _5:32 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _I trustrd you with my hert and now your’e breaking it_

 _5:37 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Go to sleep and ask me again in the morning._

xoxoxox

When Dipper went into his kitchen the next morning, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep because _a certain drunken idiot had decided it would be a good idea to wake him up at five in the fucking morning_ , he experienced a strange sense of deja vu upon seeing a blond man sitting at the kitchen island.

At least he wasn’t cooking this time, Dipper reflected as he stood, nervous and tense, in the kitchen entrance. “What’re you doing here?”

The man - Bill, Dipper thought his name was - groaned. “Hiya, Pine Tree, good morning to you, too. Where’s your sister?”

“Sleeping.” He could hear her snoring all the way from the kitchen.

Bill laid his head down on the counter, cheek smushed up against false granite, and sighed. “Figures. Do you have any tea?”

Dipper wrinkled his nose as he made his way over to his coffee pot. “Tea’s disgusting. I think Mabel has a few herbal blends.”

“Oh, god, no blends, please,” the blond man - clearly hungover, if his constant wincing and bloodshot eye were any indication - whined into the crook of his elbow. Dipper ignored him and prepared a pot of coffee. As soon as that was ready and dripping away, he rifled through the cupboards until he found Mabel’s stacks of tinned tea blends.

“We have orange pekoe-”

A groan.

“-mint green-”

A louder groan.

“-lavender-raspberry-”

This groan seemed to go on and on, incessant and unbelievably irritating.

“If you want to whine about it, go out and buy some from the nearest Starbucks or something!” Dipper snapped. He was fed up with this blond man who insisted on calling him the stupidest names, and he was bleary as _hell_ from being woken up at ungodly hours of the morning. He didn’t know anything about Bill other than he worked with Mabel, couldn’t make pancakes, and apparently went drinking with her a lot. If he didn’t get some caffeine in his system soon, he was going to murder someone, and that someone was probably going to be a specific blond, eyepatch-wearing man who was still groaning, having an apparently endless supply of air. “We have what we have, and there’s no point in whining about it!”

“I’m not whining,” came a petulant, muffled reply - thank god, the groan was finally over.

Dipper almost snorted. “You’re whining. I’ve heard whining before and that was definitely whining.”

He glanced over at the blond and saw that he’d lifted his head, huffing with indignation.

“Fine then. You win. You can be the big fat smarty-pants. I was whining!” Bill threw up his hands. “Arrest me! I whined - Oh, fuck, bad idea.”

He dropped his head back down onto the table, cradling his temples in both hands, and this time, Dipper couldn’t hold back his snort.

“Snort away,” Bill said, muffled by the false granite countertop, “but I’ll have you know that snorting at another person’s pain is usually called sadism, and is looked down upon even more than whining.” Suddenly he sat up again, wincing in pain as he did so. “Oh, fuck this shit. I’m going out for tea. I need fucking tea. Pine Tree, do you want coffee?”

“Huh?” Dipper blinked, taken aback by the sudden change of topic. “Yeah, I want coffee. What does that have to do with-”

“Put on your coat, we’re going out for coffee.” Bill grabbed his jacket - some hideous shiny gold thing hanging off the back of his chair - and hollered, “Shooting Star! We’re going out for tea and coffee!”

“Fuck you!” Dipper heard her shriek back in that slurred tone that meant she was still half-asleep.

Bill nodded to Dipper, giving him a red-eyed grin. “All right, Pine Tree, let’s get going then. We’ll grab Shooting Star a hot chocolate when we come back. And a donut. She loves donuts. What time is it? - Eleven, great, he’ll already have opened up. Well, what’re you waiting for, Pine Tree? We’re going!”

When Dipper still didn’t move, merely blinking in incomprehension at Bill, the blond hissed in frustration and seized Dipper by the wrist, dragging him out of the kitchen and to the front door.

“Hurry up,” he commanded, slamming the door open and then slamming it shut again as he lugged Dipper along with him down the hall. “I’ve got a hangover, I haven’t had any tea, I’m cranky as fuck and I don’t have any patience right now. Seriously, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve never gone out for coffee before in your entire life.”

“I don’t usually,” Dipper mumbled, his brain still scrambling to make heads and tails of the situation. He needed caffeine. Coffee, coffee was good. Bill had said something about coffee. That was good. But the blond man’s tight and almost threatening grip around his forearm was making it difficult for him to manage any deeper thought than that. “Where are we going?”

“A coffee shop down the street, it’s a five minute walk and the coffee is fucking _amazing_. You should know, you’ve been-”

With that, Bill clammed up, shutting up as effectively as pressing the _mute_ button on a maximum-volume radio. Dipper didn’t understand it. He was still trying to process how he’d gotten outside in the first place.

Somehow he stumbled his way along behind Bill until, lo and behold, the blond dragged him into a familiar-looking gold-painted building and the scent of fresh, strong coffee assailed Dipper’s nose. _Coffee._ Ahhh, coffee. He loved coffee so much.

“Who gets coffee at fucking eleven in the morning,” Bill muttered irritably to himself as he waited impatiently for the long line to move ahead. _You do_ , Dipper wanted to snark back, but he kept his tongue to himself. He didn’t think he wanted to piss off a hungover, caffeine-deprived Bill who was already clearly a little bit steamy.

When they finally reached the front of the line, Bill didn’t even wait for the barista to say the usual “Good morning, what can I get for you” greeting before snapping, “Plain green tea for me, some sort of coffee-”

“Black,” Dipper said automatically, “with two shots of espresso.”

“Yeah, that, for him.”

The blond man behind the counter blinked at them. “Bill? what’re you doing here?”

“Trying to recover from a fucking hangover, that’s what. Can you just get it for me?”

Something clicked in Dipper’s brain, and he stared at the blond, one-eyed, tan-skinned barista with a growing sense of recognition as the man shrugged and replied, “Sure. Your total is-”

“Don’t fuck with me, Will, I need my tea.”

Will - Dipper remembered Will, Will had been there the last time he’d been here, when he’d come to claim his free coffee from Wrong Number Guy - shrugged and flashed Bill a grin. Oh, god, _that_ was whom Will had reminded him of, how had he not seen it before? They had the same blond hair, the same skin, the same sparkling blue eye and eyepatch, the same shit-eating grins-

“It’s Dipper, right? Wow, Bill, I can’t believe you actually had the guts to-”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Bill growled, yanking Dipper toward the drinks counter. “I haven’t yet. I forgot - add on a hot chocolate and three chocolate-dipped sprinkled donuts.”

“You still haven’t grown yourself a backbone? I’m disappointed. Your new total-”

“Fuck off, don’t you have a job to do?”

Will laughed again, those same two hiccups that Dipper remembered, though this time a little more mischievous than the last time he’d heard them, and turned to his next customer. Meanwhile Bill waited impatiently for the other barista to hand over their donuts and drinks - “Here you go, _Cipher._ ” “Fuck off, Pyronica, you’re even slower than I remember” - before snatching them up and downing half his tea in one gulp.

“Take these,” he muttered, shoving the bag of donuts and drink tray with coffee and hot chocolate at Dipper. “Bring them back to your sister and tell her I had somewhere to go, I’m sorry for not sticking around, blah, blah, blah, come up with something for me, wouldja? Thanks, you’re a pushover. Bye.”

And so Dipper found himself standing in the middle of a busy coffee shop, brain still malfunctioning from sleepiness and lack of caffeine, as Bill stormed out, alone, tea in hand.

It wasn’t until later, after Dipper had finished half of his really fucking good coffee, that he had the idea to mutter to himself, “What the fuck was wrong with him?”

Later, as he was setting the hot chocolate and donuts down on the kitchen island, he heard his phone ring.

The universe had a really good sense of timing, he thought to himself as he fished his phone out of his pocket with one hand and read its screen.

_One new message._

_11:38 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _I’m sober now, my offer still stands._

It took Dipper a moment to process those words. Once he did, he laughed.

This fucking guy.

 _11:40 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Before I answer, when, what, and where?_

xoxoxox

Bill made a frustrated sound as he read the new message from Pine Tree. Honestly, the kid was killing him here, why couldn’t he just come out and say _yes_ already?

Earlier that morning, Bill had thought he’d blown his cover, what with Will being his usual insensitive, assholey self, and Bill’s hungover decision that _yeah, it would be a great idea to bring Pine Tree to the Mystery Brew, he’s been there before, he’ll definitely love it!_ Fortunately the kid had seemed too caffeine-deprived to notice much of what was going on, and therefore unable to make the logical connection between Random Texter Sending Pine Tree to the Mystery Brew and Bill Being Really Fucking Close to that Random Barista at the Mystery Brew. Still. Way too close for Bill’s liking. When Pine Tree found out the identity of the stranger he’d been texting these past few weeks, it would be on _Bill’s_ terms and no one else’s.

With that thought in mind, he typed out his reply.

 _11:44 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _What: one of my acquaintance’s work parties. They work for HumFeed and they always throw the craziest parties, open to pretty much anyone as long as you know one of their employees. What: 60s themed costume party, dress up as crazily as you want. Or don’t, lots of people do that too. Where: HumFeed. Your sister works there, I believe, she can tell you the address. Yay or nay?_

xoxoxox

In retrospect, Dipper should’ve probably found it suspicious that Wrong Number Guy just happened to know someone who worked at the same place as Mabel did. He should’ve probably come up with theories based on that, interrogated some people, started an investigation into Wrong Number Guy’s real identity.

He didn’t, though. Because at some point over the past few weeks of texting (not flirting, just texting. He didn’t care what Mabel called it, it was _just texting_ ) he’d stopped being paranoid about texting a random person whose identity he didn’t even know. And he hadn’t even realized that he’d stopped being paranoid about it.

xoxoxox

 _11:45 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Does that mean we’ll be seeing each other face to face? Finally?_

 _11:47 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Maybe._

 _11:47 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Possibly._

 _11:47 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Probably._

 _11:48 AM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _So, how about it?_

 _12:25 PM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Dipper?_

 _12:53 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Sorry, my sister doesn’t let me use my phone during meals._

 _12:54 PM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Wow, what are you, twelve?_

 _12:54 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Shut up._

 _12:58 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Sure, I’ll come. Mabel knows the party, she’ll take me there_

 _12:59 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Are you going to be dressing up?_

 _1:04 PM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Of course I am! Just because we’re going to see each other face to face doesn’t mean I’ll be revealing my identity to you._

 _1:06 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Figures. How will we find each other then?_

 _1:06 PM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Don’t worry about it. I’ll find you_

 _1:07 PM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _True love will never lead you astray ;)_

 _1:11 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _I will murder you._

 _1:14 PM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _And you always said I was the suspicious one._

xoxoxox

Dipper did not, in fact, dress up for the party. Mabel kept pestering him to, but he refused. Instead, while she went in a silver spandex body-suit, he went in his usual jeans and dull orange tee. And his pine tree baseball cap, of course. He rarely went anywhere without it.

The party was a loud, pulsing mess, just as Dipper had predicted and dreaded. This was his first time ever attending any of HumFeed’s infamous parties, and the reason for that, despite having been invited by Mabel countless times, was because he’d dreaded what it would be like. Well, now he knew that all his worst nightmares had been accurate. The party was just as loud, and sweaty, and crowded, and overall unappealing and uncomfortable as he’d always feared.

Beside him, Mabel squeezed his shoulder. “Are you okay?” she shouted into his ear. Even with that he could barely hear her over the blaring music. “Do you need me to stay with you?”

He shook his head at her. Body language was far more effective here than verbal communication. “No, I’m fine! Go have fun!” In case she hadn’t heard, he waved at her in a clear sign for her to go away. After a pause, she leaned up and pecked him on the cheek.

“Text me when you want to leave!” she yelled at him, and without any further hesitation, vanished off into the crowd.

For a few minutes, Dipper simply stood there, letting the mass of undulating bodies push him to and fro as they decided. Eventually, though, he shoved his way over to a wall - it was slightly calmer and less packed there, but only by a little - and pulled out his phone.

 _10:47 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _You here yet?_

 _10:51 PM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Now I am! Where are you hiding?_

 _10:53 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _I’m standing in a corner. I don’t know why you wanted us to meet here, this place is disgusting._

 _10:58 PM [Wrong number guy]_ _  
_ _Well, you know what they say, Dipper..._

“Pain is hilarious!” somebody shouted into his ear, and he almost fell over from surprise.

When he whirled around, ready to give that overly loud and nasal-voiced somebody a piece of his mind, he found himself staring at a manically grinning, black-dreadlocked, sunglasses-wearing hippie.

“Howdy, P- Dipper!” the hippie shouted at him. “Having fun, I see!”

Dipper scowled back. “What’s with the getup?”

The hippie - whom Dipper now recognized as Wrong Number Guy - twirled a dreadlock around his finger and struck a pose. “You like it? I call it Anonymity #51. It’s not as good as #47, but for this theme, this was all I could do!”

All Dipper could do was scowl harder to keep an utterly irrational grin from splitting across his face. “You look like shit.”

“Why, thank you.” Wrong Number Guy was completely unfazed. As usual. “Hey, dance with me.”

“What - Wait -”

Too late; he’d already grabbed Dipper by the wrist and dragged him out onto the dance floor.

“I don’t know how to dance!” Dipper shouted as Wrong Number Guy released him and began snapping his fingers, bobbing his head in time with the music.

“I don’t either!” he shouted back, and cackled madly with glee. Something about that cackling laugh seemed oddly familiar, though Dipper couldn’t tell why. What was with his memory and its faultiness lately? “We can both dance like idiots together!”

And, to Dipper’s surprise, that was exactly what they did for the next few minutes, swaying side-to-side and bouncing with the music, wildly waving their arms and kicking their feet, laughing madly amid the booming rock music. Dipper felt giddy and light, somehow _free_ , despite being in an environment he’d normally never enter unless bribed into doing so. Standing there in the hot press of bodies, shimmying like a madman and laughing alongside a badly-dressed, too-loud, too-careless man he barely even knew, felt... Right. Comfortable.

He didn’t want to think about this.

Something must’ve shown in his face, because Wrong Number Guy suddenly stopped his horrible attempt at the Carleston to grab Dipper by the shoulders. “Hey, are you okay?”

Dipper nodded, but his knees wouldn’t stop shaking.

Wrong Number Guy’s - he really needed to find out the guy’s real name - grip on his shoulders didn’t falter, and to be honest, Dipper didn’t really wanted it to. He liked feeling the other man touching him, liked having his body so close to his own, liked-

Dipper closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Shut up, Dipper. Don’t go down that road._

Dimly he was aware of Wrong Number Guy tugging him gently through the crowd. “Okie-dokes, that was a little too much fun a little too quick for you. I always forget that you’re a hermit who hasn’t been in contact with people for twenty years-”

“Not a hermit,” Dipper muttered, and Wrong Number Guy laughed. That laugh did funny things to Dipper’s stomach, making it flipflop in a way he was not at all familiar with and found exceedingly uncomfortable.

Oh, god. Oh, no. It couldn’t be.

“That’s what you always say! Okay - whoops, sorry there - here we go, and... Pop!”

Suddenly the music had faded to a mere dull roar behind them, and Dipper could feel a cool breeze against his skin - completely unlike the hot, stuffy air that he’d been suffocating in earlier.

He opened his eyes.

They were outside of the party space that HumFeed had rented for the evening, beside an open door through which Dipper could see the party. But if he turned away from it, tilted his face upward, he could see the moon glistening above him, a few stars twinkling by its side.

“Hey. Hey.” Wrong Number Guy poked him in the shoulder. “Hey, Dipper. You feeling all right? Do you need to call it a night?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I don’t want to-”

 _I don’t want to go yet. I don’t want to leave yet - to leave_ you _yet._

Oh, fuck, he had it bad.

“Hmm.” Wrong Number Guy strolled ahead and plonked himself down on a bench a few paces away. Sometime during the dance, his sunglasses had been knocked askew, and Dipper caught a brief flash of something black against his skin before he readjusted his glasses until it was hidden from view once again.

A tattoo, maybe? Great, Dipper had developed a - _don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it_ \- a friendship with a tattooed maniac.

“Hey.” Wrong Number Guy gestured toward him. “Come on, sit down. Don’t worry.” He grinned, a mischievous flash of light teeth against shadowed, tanned skin. “I don’t bite.”

“I never said you did,” Dipper shot back as he sat beside him. Oh, lord, it was nice to sit down and rest after spending all that time dancing - or attempting to dance - in that hot, crowded, sweaty room.

The two men sat in silent for a few minutes, staring up at the few stars that twinkled in the city sky.

Wrong Number Guy was the first to break the silence.

“You know, I’ve always thought the stars were beautiful.”

“Mmhmm?” Dipper was only half paying attention. He was scouring the night sky for the Ursa Major constellation, the one from which he’d gotten his name. He couldn’t find it anywhere. Was it the wrong time of-?

“But they’re nothing compared to the stars I’ve seen in your beautiful eyes.”

It took Dipper a moment to process the words. When he did, he groaned.

“I thought you were done with the cheesy pickup lines.”

Beside him, Wrong Number Guy chortled with laughter. “You can never have too many cheesy pickup lines.”

He turned and gave Dipper a surprisingly gentle smile. “Would you like to hear another one? Sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you for robbery, you’ve stolen my heart.”

Dipper’s breath hitched momentarily in his throat, and he prayed to the stars that the man beside him hadn’t heard it. How mortifying would that be?

But, god, that had made his heart race. It really shouldn’t have made his heart race that hard. There was no reason for Dipper to feel so, so calm, so peaceful, so nervous and _excited_ just sitting beside this man whose name he didn’t even know.

_You barely even know the guy. You shouldn’t be attracted to someone you don’t even know. For all you know, he could be an axe murderer. A serial killer. A kidnapper, looking for his next target._

No matter how many times he told himself that, though, his heartbeat just refused to slow down.

“Very funny.” Dipper forced a nervous laugh. “That’s real original.”

The other man’s voice was soft as he spoke again.

“Then how about this one? Hey there, I’m a robber, is it okay if I steal something from you?”

Dipper grinned nervously. “If you say my heart, I’ll slap you.”

“No.” The man had leaned in closer to Dipper, and the brunet felt goosebumps rise on his arms as the other man whispered into his ear, his breath warm against his cheek, “A kiss.”

Dipper couldn’t breathe.

A single hand ghosted up to his cheek, cupped it, turned Dipper’s face gently until the two men were face-to-face. Dipper couldn’t see the other man’s expression properly with those giant sunglasses taking up so much of his face, and he cursed him mentally in his mind. It wasn’t fair that he could hide all his thoughts and emotions behind those sunglasses while Dipper, with his nervous sweat and cherry blush and wide eyes and racing, racing pulse, had his entire mind laid out for anyone to read.

“Would that be fine?” the man breathed, and Dipper couldn’t find the strength to do anything but close his eyes in silent anticipation.

Two seconds. Three. Eight heartbeats, nine, ten, twelve, thirteen - and then he felt gentle lips, sweet and slightly dry, pressing against his own.

And without a thought, without even so much as a _I don’t even know this guy’s name_ , he leaned in and kissed him back.

xoxoxox

Mabel drove them back to their apartment in utter silence. Dipper honestly didn’t mind. He didn’t think he had enough brainspace right then to hold a proper conversation with her. It was only after they’d gone up to their apartment and Mabel had plonked him in a chair, then plonked a mug of hot chocolate in front of him, that she told him, “What happened?”

He cradled his mug of chocolate. “Nothing.”

She gave him a hard look. “You coming up to me an hour into the party with a white face and asking if we can go home is not _nothing_. Did that creep do something to you? I swear to god, if he did, I don’t care who he is, I’m going to slap him-”

“He kissed me.”

She froze, hands floating in midair, prepared to strangle someone.

“He what?”

Dipper looked up at him, and she could see the glaze in his eyes as he repeated, just as dumbfounded as her, “He kissed me.”

For a moment, she could think of nothing to say. Dipper stared back down at his hot chocolate, spinning it around in his hands and watching the kitchen lights play off its dark, watery surface.

“...Did you kiss him back?”

He laughed, slightly hysterical, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I did! I don’t even know his name, and I - I let him kiss me, and I even kissed him back! That’s not - People don’t _do_ that, Mabel. They don’t just randomly up and kiss people that they’ve only just met, in person, minutes ago. They don’t, they don’t text creepy strangers for weeks on end, they don’t get crushes on-”

“You have a crush on him?”

He groaned and smacked his forehead against the countertop, unable to see the way her eyes had widened, or how her lips had begun twitching as she fought back a smile. “I shouldn’t, should I? It’s wrong. For all I know, he’s a serial murderer, or a psychopath, or - Or - Mabel, this is the first crush I’ve had since Wendy, and that was twelve years ago. What’s wrong with me?”

She reached out and squeezed his shoulders. The move startled him into lifting his head again.

When he met her gaze, he saw steely determination in her eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Dipdop,” she told him, firm and certain. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with liking someone, no matter who that someone is. Okay?”

“Even if that someone’s a killer?”

His whisper was feeble, and she rolled her eyes at it.

“I can promise you that your wrong number guy is _not_ a killer, but yet. Even if that someone’s a killer.”

“Some philosophers say-”

“Well, some philosophers can suck my metaphorical dick,” she snapped. “Okay, Dipper. This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to go to sleep. _Now._ And then in the morning you’re going to tell me exactly what happened, and then we’re going to figure out something, _together_ , to make things better. Not fix them, because there’s nothing wrong. Just to _make them better._ Got it?”

He nodded, numbly. She smiled in satisfaction.

“Good. Now drink your hot chocolate and go to sleep.”

xoxoxox

 _11:54 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _dickhead. u just left him there??? alone??? wtf is wrong w u?_

 _12:07 PM [Biggest stupid stupidhead of all stupidheads]_ _  
_ _I have a headache. Do you know how long I slept last night?_

 _12:07 PM [Biggest stupid stupidhead of all stupidheads]_ _  
_ _I slept two hours. I feel like I’m going to die._

 _12:09 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _u deserve it. U LEFT HIM THERE! ALONE!!!! who DOES that??!_

 _12:14 PM [Biggest stupid stupidhead of all stupidheads]_ _  
_ _He was in shock. I decided to give him some time to process everything._

 _12:14 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _liarrrrrr_

 _12:15 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _u kno hes been freaking out cuz he kissed you and he likes you and he doesnt even know ur name?_

 _12:15 PM [Biggest stupid stupidhead of all stupidheads]_ _  
_ _He likes me?_

 _12:15 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _he thinks thats wrong or smthn. my brothers an idiot_

 _12:16 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _omg YES u fucking DORK he LIKES u and if u dont like him back im going to castrate you_

 _12:16 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _with a toaster_

 _12:16 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _i saw a video on youtube, i could totally do it if i wanted to_

 _12:17 PM [Biggest stupid stupidhead of all stupidheads]_ _  
_ _I believe you_

 _12:20 PM [Biggest stupid stupidhead of all stupidheads]_ _  
_ _Really?_

 _12:26 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _ur both pathetic_

 _12:29 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _when’re u gonna tell him who u r?_

 _12:33 PM [Biggest stupid stupidhead of all stupidheads]_ _  
_ _Do I have to?_

 _12:35 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _i will castrate u_

 _12:36 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _with a toaster_

 _12:38 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _u kno me, I dont make idle threats_

 _12:38 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _so when’re u doin it?_

 _3:55 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _if u leave my brother hanging, i dont care where you run to, i will hunt u down and slaughter u_

 _4:09 PM [Biggest stupid stupidhead of all stupidheads]_ _  
_ _I’m not running away_

 _4:10 PM [Biggest stupid stupidhead of all stupidheads]_ _  
_ _I’m just... thinking_

 _4:11 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _dont b afraid to tell him, he wont care_

 _4:14 PM [Biggest stupid stupidhead of all stupidheads]_ _  
_ _I’m not afraid_

 _4:18 PM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _both of u r such ginormous liars_

xoxoxox

 _4:25 PM [Serial killer???]_ _  
_ _How are you?_

 _4:36 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _I’m all right. Tired. You?_

 _4:40 PM [Serial killer???]_ _  
_ _Same as usual_

 _4:53 PM [Serial killer???]_ _  
_ _What did you think of last night?_

 _4:58 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _It was fine_

 _5:02 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _I mean, the waiting around wasn’t fun_

 _5:03 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _The dancing wasn’t really fun either_

 _5:03 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Stargazing was fun though_

 _5:03 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _And uh._

 _5:04 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _The other thing was fun too_

 _5:04 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Kinda_

 _5:04 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Ish_

 _5:15 PM [Serial killer???]_ _  
_ _Yeah. That other thing_

 _5:15 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Yeah, that._

 _8:34 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _I’m sorry, this is just getting so awkward now_

 _8:34 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Can we just... pretend last night never happened?_

 _9:55 PM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Are you there?_

 _2:01 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _Hello?_

xoxoxox

“He didn’t respond, Mabel.”

She pursed her lips and poured him a mug of coffee. He didn’t even notice, keeping his gloomy gaze locked onto the unchanging screen of his phone.

“I’m sure there’s a good reason for it. Come on, eat your waffles. I even made them non-glittery, just for you.”

He didn’t stop brooding. “What if he was just toying with me? You know, like a playboy. Find them, steal their hearts, leave them, break their hearts. I bet that was it. I bet I was just another conquest for him. He probably-”

“Dipper, stop being so pessimistic and eat your goddamn waffle.”

He ate it. As he ate, he continued talking.

“That would explain the cheesy pickup lines. No one ever actually uses those when they’re being serious. I went on some Internet forums and asked-” Mabel retched. “-and they all said the same thing. I bet that coffee store is in cahoots with him, too. They’ve probably got some kind of shady deal going on. Maybe he and the baristas are all in on it. Maybe he’s the barista. Maybe he was Will.”

“Dipper, if you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to hit you in the face with the frying pan.”

He shut up for two minutes.

“What if-”

“ _Dipper_.”

He shut up again, this time for good.

When they finally finished breakfast several long, torturous minutes later, Mabel spoke up again.

“Remember Bill?”

“The annoying, loud blond guy with the eyepatch?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Sure, that one. He’s coming over for lunch today. And-” Dipper jumped and yelped. “-I _know_ you don’t like it when we have people over-”

“Why does he need to come over and have lunch with us? There’s nothing special going on! Can’t he just-”

“-but it’s just a single little lunch and it’s really not going to be all that bad and I know you think he’s annoying-”

“You’ve hooked up with him, haven’t you? That’s why he’s coming over for lunch. So you two can tell me officially. Why him, of all people?”

“Dipper, he’s gay. I know you think he’s annoying but he’s not a bad guy and it’s only for one little lunch so can you please, _please_ just show up and be civil and polite and not accuse him of any conspiracy plots-”

“He knew the coffee store. Shit, do you think he’s in with the baristas and the wrong number guy on their heartbreaking plot?”

“What did I just say? What did I _just_ tell you not to do?”

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t even know him, how can you not like him?”

“I don’t know. Same way that I can like someone that I don’t know.”

She balled up her fists and made a wordless groan of frustration. He sullenly swirled around his mug of coffee and took a sip.

xoxoxox

 _11:44 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _uv ruined him. uv ruined my brother. hes gone completely paranoid_

 _11:44 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _u kno he thinks anon u has got some sort of deal going on with the mystery brew? u all enjoy breaking ppls hearts or something and u do it as some sort of big, criminal, heartbreaking ring_

 _11:45 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _he even thinks Bill u is in on it_

 _11:45 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _if this doesnt work i will never forgive u_

 _12:10 PM [STUPID STUPID STUPID]_ _  
_ _If this doesn’t work, I’ll never forgive myself._

xoxoxox

At twelve thirty, the doorbell rang, and Mabel went to answer it. Dipper sat sulkily at the kitchen counter, staring down at his phone and waiting for a _New Message_ notification to pop up. It never came.

“...put it here - you really didn’t have to bring anything, you know, I had it all prepared-”

“I felt obligated to.” Ah, there it was, that irritating nasal voice that Dipper knew so well despite only having heard it twice before. It seemed muted today, though, as though Bill were feeling a little more tired, or a little more melancholy, than usual. Maybe he’d be less annoying today because of it. Ha! That would be nice. “Oh. Hello, Pine Tree.”

Dipper grunted ambiguously and shoved his phone away. _No phones at the dining table_.

Mabel frowned at him and gave him a look that said, clear as day, _Be polite._ He gave her a look back that said, _Make me_.

“Okay, take a seat.” She pushed Bill toward the kitchen island. “I just need to grab a little few somethings, I’ll be right back. Dipper? Be civil.”

He grunted again.

“I mean it.”

Another grunt.

She sighed in exasperation, and after casting the two of them one final, uncertain look, she vanished away to her bedroom.

After a slight hesitation, Bill took the seat directly beside Dipper. “Heya, Pine Tree.”

“What do you want, Bill.”

The blond man shrugged and gave him a tense smile, much smaller than he was used to. “Nothing really. Nothing...” He glanced around with his single, sky-blue eye. “Nothing at all.”

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Dipper played with his fork and knife. Bill tapped at the kitchen counter, fidgeted in his seat, glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and then resumed his nervous tapping.

Eventually Dipper broke the silence again. “Why are you here?”

“I...” Bill hesitated. “Your sister invited me to have lunch with you two.”

“Why did she invite you to have lunch with us?”

Bill seemed actually uncomfortable. Dipper had never seen him that way before. “Because... Oh, fuck it.” He slammed his hand down on the table, making the brunet jump with startlement. “Pine Tree.”

Dipper glanced up at him, and was startled to see Bill’s eye burning with fiery determination.

“If you were a triangle,” the blond man said, slow, deliberate, so clearly enunciated that Dipper couldn’t have misheard it even if he wanted to, “you would be acute one.”

Dipper stared, uncomprehending, as Bill went on.

“If I had a star for every time you brightened my day, I’d have a galaxy in my hands. I tried my best not to feel anything for you, and you know what? I failed. If I were a cat I’d spend all my nine lives with you. If I could rearrange the alphabet, I would put U beside I. Do you know what I did last night? I looked up at the stars, and matched every one I saw with a reason for why I like you.”

At some point, Dipper’s hands had begun trembling. Now Bill took them in his own, equally shaky ones, and for some reason, Dipper didn’t fight back.

“If kisses were snowflakes, I’d send you a blizzard. If I was a phone, you’d be my charger, because without you, I’d die. If you were my tear, I’d never cry for fear of losing you. If I died right now, I’d die happy, because I’d die seeing your face.”

And, giving Dipper’s hands a gentle squeeze - the brunet’s mouth felt dry, his head felt light, _was this a dream? This had to be a dream, because there was no way this was actually happening_ \- he smiled gently and said, “I don’t think I have the wrong person, actually, because I just said all those things to my soulmate.”

It was like a punch in the gut.

“Y-Y-Y-You’re not-”

Bill squeezed his hands again. “Sorry for not responding. I just... I’m sorry.”

Dipper shook his head and tried to extricate his hands from Bill’s, but the blond held fiercely on, and despite all of Dipper’s best attempts, he just couldn’t do it. “No. No, you’re not him. No way. This is a joke, right?”

“Remember Will from Mystery Brew? He’s the owner of the store, my twin brother. There’s no playboy, heart-breaking ring going on there, I promise you. Just one brother being a pushover for the other.”

“No.”

“You were looking for the Big Dipper that night at the party. You didn’t say it but I know you were. Mabel told me about the constellation birthmark on your forehead, and I’ve always thought-”

With a fierce jolt, Dipper yanked his hands free from Bill’s. “ _No!_ ”

He didn’t see the stunned, hurt look on the blond’s face as he turned and ran to his bedroom.

He almost bowled Mabel over on his way there. “Dipper?” she cried out, worried, as he ran by. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of responding, he dashed into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

No way. No fucking way. Bill and Wrong Number Guy weren’t the same person. That was just... Inconceivable. Impossible.

They were both annoying. Both equally loud. They both had wild laughs, were both affiliated with that stupid coffee shop, their mutual contact was Mabel - Bill worked at HumFeed with her, he knew all about the parties they held there-

 _No_.

He threw himself onto his bed, and didn’t let himself move, or speak, or think, for a long, long time.

xoxoxox

Bill poked ruefully at his lasagna. “I fucked up, didn’t I.”

“Yup.” When he glared at her, she amended, “A little bit. You probably should’ve told him a little sooner. Like, at the party, maybe. Or when you send him that first text.”

“How about never?”

She squeezed his shoulder in a tight, comforting grip. “It’ll be okay. Just you wait and see. Dipper’s just being Dipper, that’s all. He’s gotta rearrange the world in his mind so that it fits all...” She gestured at Bill, top to bottom, black leather shoes to gaudy yellow dress shirt. “This.”

“I fucked myself over when I asked you for his number.” Bill sighed and shut his eye, tilting his face up toward the ceiling. “Why did I do that? I completely fucked myself over. I should never have bothered trying to-”

“Both you _and_ my brother need to stop throwing each other self-pity parties. It’s all going to work out, Bill! I promise. I know my brother better than anyone else, and I promise you right now-” She clapped him on the back. “-that everything is going to turn out all right.”

He brooded for a few minutes, pushing the cold lasagna around on his plate. He couldn’t hear a single sound from Pine Tree’s bedroom down the hall. It was almost as if the brunet wasn’t even there.

“If you’re wrong, do I have permission to hunt you down and castrate you with a toaster?”

She giggled and headbutted him in the shoulder. “Yes, you do, but I promise that I won’t be wrong.”

xoxoxox

“Is he gone?”

Mabel didn’t look up from her dishwashing. “Come over and help me dry, you dork. Your lunch is on the table, if you ever decide you want to eat it.” As he took up his place beside her, drying off all the plates and cutlery she handed him, she continued, “He’s been gone for a long while now. It’s kinda freaky how similar you two are.”

“We are not-”

“Both of you got all moody and glum and depressed when you thought things weren’t going to work out between you two, both of you are super paranoid about creepiness - although you’re more worried about being creeped out, and he’s more worried about being creepy - and you throw yourselves self-pity parties all the time. Twenty-four seven. You know how boring it gets hanging around with you two after a while? It’s just self-pity, self-pity, all the time!” She flapped her wet dish towel at him, and he grimaced as flecks of soapy water landed on his face. “You two need to learn to grow up and get a life!”

“It’s not my fault,” he protested as he dried off the pair of knives she handed to him. “He never told me who he was. He could’ve told me all this time, and he decided not to. And - and Wrong Number Guy is _Bill_? Do you know how wrong that is? Bill is - Bill is so-”

“Annoying?”

“Yes! And creepy!”

She gave him a pointed glare and handed him a plate. “So was Wrong Number Guy.”

“Not in the same way.”

The pointed glare continued. He could only return it for so long before breaking down and sighing in defeat.

“Okay, maybe in the same way, but - why couldn’t he just _tell_ me?”

“Why couldn’t _you_ just tell _him_ that you liked him? And that you wanted to know his name? And, oh, Mr. Wrong Number, I don’t even know who you are, and that’s a tiny little bit creepy, but I want to make out with you and have sex with you anyway-”

“I do _not_ -”

“-so would you pretty please just become my boyfriend? It wouldn’t have been that hard to do, you could’ve just asked!”

He sulked away as he wiped down the plate. “It’s not the same.”

“It totally is and you know it.”

He huffed in frustration. “Okay, then, so what do I do now? Go back to him and apologize? Do you know how-”

“- _not_ awkward, and better than just not saying anything at all, that would be?”

He glared at her. She glared back.

“You know I’m right.”

The sad thing was, he did.

Dear lord, he was going to regret this.

xoxoxox

 _12:00 AM [Pine Tree]_ _  
_ _You may fall from the sky, you may fall from a tree, but the best way to fall is in love with me._

xoxoxox

 _12:04 AM [Stupid #2]_ _  
_ _I love you._

 _12:05 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _dipper wouldnt b very happy to hear that_

 _12:05 AM [Shooting Star]_ _  
_ _wait wat did i do?_

 _12:06 AM [Stupid #2]_ _  
_ _Thank you._

xoxoxox

When Bill left work the next day, Dipper was there, standing awkward and fidgety and fucking adorable as could be. When Bill saw him, he was torn between laughing at his beauty and crying because he was _there_.

He settled for a grin as he walked up to the nervous brunet. “Hey there, beautiful! You know, I never used to believe until love at first sight, but then, just a few seconds ago, I saw you.”

“This isn’t even the first time we’ve seen each other, idiot,” Dipper muttered, cheeks flaring an embarrassed red. Bill smiled and fought down the pressing urge to just get up on his tiptoes and peck his beautiful, _adorable_ Pine Tree on the lips, right then and there.

“You’re right, but you know what? I didn’t know what perfection was until the very first time I saw you.”

“You’re so cheesy,” Dipper grumbled, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and looking pointedly away from Bill.

When the blond noticed that, his smile faded a little.

“So, Pine Tree. What’re you here for? Not that I don’t enjoy the view and all-” He let his smile grow artificially wider. “-but still, why are you here?”

Dipper took a deep breath, and for a moment, Bill feared the worst.

“Did you mean... Did you mean what you said, earlier-” He waved his hand through the air. “-about my taking your heart?”

Bill swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat. There were a number of ways this could go down. A few of them ended well. Others? Not so much.

“Of course I did, it’s not a habit of mine to lie to faces as pretty as yours.”

“Well.” Dipper took a deep breath. Then another.

Bill was started to feel a little bit freaked out here. _What was going on?_

“Well. I’m here to tell you right now that I don’t plan on returning it, because you... You’ve stolen mine too.”

Oh, god. Bill was going to die right then and there of happiness, and he wasn’t even saying that to be cheesy. He thought he actually might.

Finally Dipper met Bill’s eyes, and when he did, his face flared even redder than before. “Can I... Can I take back that kiss that you stole from me the other night?”

Bill grinned and tilted his face upward. Yes, yes, _yes_ , this was happening - this was a dream come true. This was _actually happening_.

“You’re the thief, you tell me.”

So Dipper leaned down, placed a gentle hand on Bill’s cheek, and kissed him.

And Bill kissed him back.

**Author's Note:**

> The first kiss was probably better than the second one, but I think they were both okay for a high schooler who's never had a romantic experience in her entire life. So, suck on my metaphorical dick. And also, for those of you who find it weird that they never called each other, I'm one of those people who hate telephone calls therefore I try not to make my characters suffer through them whenever possible. So that's my excuse.  
> Please leave some concrit below, even a simple "good job" or "shitty job" will suffice, though of course a little more detail would be appreciated, and now, thank you for reading, and I will hopefully see you all again with the next fic I write!


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